


Of Laughter and Heartbreak

by DominiqueYrbantisba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominiqueYrbantisba/pseuds/DominiqueYrbantisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attempting to write the full story of Dominique Yrbantisba.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Laughter and Heartbreak

It was a night of celebration for most. The Dark Lord had been defeated, by an infant no less, and witches and wizards all throughout England were throwing parties and basking in the glow of family and friends who had come out of the war unscathed.

But there was a place, a secret place in a derelict and forgotten corner of London, where this joy was not felt. For these people, the disappearance of the Dark Lord meant horrible things. They were left without protection, without a leader, and without purpose.

This group of misfits, most would call them criminals, held vigil at Number 7 Primrose Lane, waiting for news of their supposedly fallen leader. A man strode into the large drawing room, a man with a sophisticated air about him and long, silver-blond hair cascading about his stately shoulders.

“So, what have you found?” needled a beautiful, raven-haired woman who stood, distraught, by the fireplace.

The striking man sighed, the heaviest sigh he’d breathed in the whole of his privileged life. “Nothing, Bellatrix. The rumors seem to uphold the truth. The Dark Lord, as it is, has gone.”

More than half of the almost fifty people in the room quickly Apparated away, some wailing in fear, never to be seen again by people they had for so many years called friends. But the more loyal stayed. The woman called Bellatrix let out a wounded, angry howl, and try as he might, her husband Rodolphous could not calm her.

“This cannot be,” she carried on. “I refuse to believe this, Lucius!” she cried. “I refuse to believe that my Lord could ever be defeated by Lily and James Potter, filthy little Mudblood and a blood traitor. He is out there somewhere and we must find him!”

The man called Lucius drew in another deep breath. “Lily and James are dead. They say it was-“ he paused. “They say it was the child, Harry. He lives.”

Despite the buzz about the room before, this last statement hung in perfect silence and Lucius couldn’t meet his shocked audience in their eyes, so he bowed his head.

Finally somebody spoke, a very beautiful woman with olive skin and chestnut hair – by all appearances, the very type of woman who didn’t belong in such an organization.

“The prophecy. It was the child from the prophecy Severus spoke of.”

“Yes, and now where is he?” roared Bellatrix, her anger and hurt flaring, realizing the absence of the man who had long been considered the Dark Lord’s favorite.

“Also missing,” said Lucius plainly.

“Cowardly bastard,” muttered Bellatrix under her breath, for she had never trusted Severus.

“I must go,” said the beautiful woman calmly.

“Agnese, you must not trust him,” said Bellatrix gravely. “You mark my words, Severus Snape is a bloody traitor to our cause.”

Agnese paused before Apparating to her home to give her comrade and close friend an honest reply. “Severus has been a great friend to me, Bella. I would trust him to my grave. You are wrong.”

And with that, she was gone to Yrbantisba Manor. The sun had just started its slow ascent into the sky, right behind her home, and it cast an eerie glow around its edges. She entered the mansion quietly, so as not to wake her child prematurely. She crept up to the nursery where her daughter slept and looked over into the crib. There she laid, living, breathing, the most beautiful creature Agnese had ever laid her eyes on.

As if sensing her mother’s presence, the baby slowly and calmly cracked her eyes, revealing the lovely emerald green which lay beneath her lids. She did not cry, but yawned, stretched, and took a good look at her mother. She reached up a tiny fist in an attempt to grip the ends of her long hair but couldn’t quite reach.

An overwhelming feeling overtook Agnese, a feeling she couldn’t quite identify, but it brought tears to her eyes. She picked up the child, she kissed her and hugged her and felt without doubt that she would have died for her, just as Lily Potter had died for her son only hours before. Agnese had a sneaking suspicion that what she was feeling in this moment might be guilt. The guilt of being part of an organization that had produced the most famous orphan her world would ever know, an orphan who would still feel the void of his parents no matter his fame.

A few tears spilled from her eyes as she swaddled her child, the most precious gem in her life. The Dark Lord was gone, and she must no longer live in the open. For the next ten years, Agnese Yrbantisba lived only in the shadows, hoping to protect herself and her child, just as Lily Potter had done.


End file.
